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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179656">there's no way he can compete</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetdawn20/pseuds/sunsetdawn20'>sunsetdawn20</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Community: comment_fic, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Jealous John, Love Triangles, M/M, Nathan Ingram Lives, Pining John, communication is not their thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:14:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetdawn20/pseuds/sunsetdawn20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly Nathan Ingram is back in their lives and John feels like he could lose Harold too easily. They're both exactly as bad at communicating their feelings as you'd imagine despite some tentative attempts at help from the others.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harold Finch/John Reese, Harold Finch/Nathan Ingram</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2015, Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there's no way he can compete</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Comment_fic fill, to bring some joy to the recipients. My challenge to myself: fill one prompt each day from the same day five years ago. Today's prompt from May 14 2015 is: </p>
<p>Person of Interest (TV), Harold Finch/Nathan Ingram/John Reese, there's no way he can compete</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">there’s no way he can compete </span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d ask if you’re ok with that, but I’m guessing that question would get me shot in the kneecap,” Fusco says in a voice that is meant to sound casual but really doesn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John doesn’t take his eyes off Harold and Ingram across the street, conversing in a corner café. In broad daylight. John knows next to nothing about their shared past, and even less about what is going on now, but he’s fairly certain being spotted is either a deliberate move in some plan he will be filled in on a need to know basis, or the Machine is going the extra mile giving its two parents the privacy they deserve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you find?” John asks Fusco.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid’s been living rough for three months. Mom died in military service. Dad started drinking. Tragic but no sign of any criminal activity from either of them. Last time the kid’s name showed up on record was when he bailed his girlfriend out after getting herself arrested for public indecency.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John nods. Across the street Harold is staring at the coffee he ordered and John wonders whether Harold wants to mislead Ingram or if it’s a test, to see if he’ll notice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anything on the girlfriend?” John asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing unusual. Bored rich girl with a saviour fetish, listen,” Fusco says impatiently. “Usually this is info you seem to know from the get go. What exactly is going on with you guys?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John says nothing just tears his eyes away from the frown line between Harold’s brows and smiles at Fusco as if it was a game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s only here to advise on this one number,” Harold says before John could even react to Nathan’s presence at what he’s just now realising he’s started to think of as <em>their </em>library. John just nods but there must be something hostile in his stance or expression because Harold quickly adds in a low voice:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not what you’re thinking, John.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John looks him in the eyes and in a level voice quietly asks: “What <em>am </em>I thinking, Harold?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It ends up being more than one number. Like John knew it would.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After three months it’s Shaw, of all people, who asks: “Are you going to do something about that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John says nothing. He’s not exactly sure what people expect him to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What doesn’t change is the way Harold kisses him when it’s just the two of them and the weeks have been too long and the numbers too bloody. What doesn’t change is how he meticulously takes apart John’s body and soul layer by layer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What changes is that John starts to expect every time to be the last.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can tell me if it bothers you, John,” Harold says once, dressing with the pace of a man who wants to crawl back into bed rather than leave. He doesn’t elaborate on what “it” he’s referring to but John has a number of ideas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harold looks at him, and John realises that for the first time since they’ve known each other, Harold is giving him permission to ask anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he says instead. Smoothly. Steadily. Chasing the words with a smile just in case. He gets out of bed and walks into the bathroom to take a shower. By the time he’s done, Harold is gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then they’re taken – predictably, inevitably. First Ingram, out of his flat that was supposed to be safe, and then trying to locate him got John captured as well. It’s his fault, really. Harold was not thinking clearly – John knew better but it’s been too long since he last chose to follow his instincts over Harold’s instructions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s held at a warehouse – has about seven half-formed plans working in his mind about how to free himself and get to Ingram across the city before it’s too late, when suddenly Harold is there, walking towards him with hurried but sure steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Harold,” John says, trying to sound calm, “but…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not to worry, Mr Reese,” he says distractedly as he cuts the rubber band from John’s wrists. “Detectives Carter and Fusco are taking own the ring as we speak, the warehouse was left abandoned. And Miss Shaw just called, she got Nathan out safe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John says nothing, but as soon as his hands are free he pulls Harold down for a kiss because he needs to know – he needs to know if Harold chose to come to him because John’s life matters more, or if he sent Shaw with her training and weapons and resourcefulness to retrieve Ingram, because Harold couldn’t risk losing him a second time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harold eases into the kiss but John finds no solace in it. Harold’s kisses are just as elusive as everything else about him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carter is the only one who never asks even though she knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you know if…?” John starts one night, the city alive and noisy around them. Across the street the perpetrator is being pushed into a police car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carter sighs.  “You ask.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John looks away. “That’s not who we are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The soft breathless moan Harold tries and fails to bite back breaks down all of John’s self control and he picks up the pace of his thrusts. He groans against Harold’s neck, wants to bite down, leave any kind of mark no matter how fleeting, but he knows he’s not allowed and it makes his desire all the stronger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suddenly Harold tenses up beneath him, expression betraying discomfort and John stops moving immediately.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did I hurt you?” he asks with concern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” Harold smiles a little ruefully. “I liked it, just…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John nods, lifts some of his weight off Harold, and ask: “What do you need?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harold just shakes his head. “It’s passing, just, need you to go a bit slower today.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>John leans down, brushes a soft kiss against Harold’s lips. When he rolls his hips slowly, carefully, Harold gasps and reaches up to pull him closer again by the waist.  It’s its own kind of intoxicating terror, making love to Harold like this and John gets completely undone by it every time. He feels almost unbearably vulnerable and at Harold’s mercy and the way Harold draws his fingers up and down John’s spine makes him tremble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let go,” Harold says softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John’s orgasm comes almost out of nowhere, he wasn’t even aware of being close to release, but only moments after Harold’s words, it completely overwhelms John. He hides his face against Harold’s neck, moaning quietly as he’s riding out the waves of pleasure, his entire body shaking helplessly in Harold’s arms. A part of his brain is aware that Harold falls into his own, much quieter, much more composed orgasm soon after, but John is too overwhelmed himself to watch him the way he likes to. His throat feels tight with some kind of emotion he has no words for and it’s only when Harold shifts beneath him in slight discomfort that John realises he’s holding on too tight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“John?” Harold asks quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t leave me,” John finds himself whispering against the nape of Harold’s neck. His voice is so quiet he’s not even sure Harold heard him and he’s almost surprised when he gets an answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s not a promise, not even a straightforward no, leaves room for so much heartache, and John knows somewhere deep in his gut that there’s still a fight to be won, even if Harold can’t admit to a war existing in the first place. And some part of him knows with chilling certainty, it’s a fight he can’t possibly come out of victorious, not when he’s up against Ingram and all that history he shares with Harold.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you jealous?” Harold asks, surprised and maybe even a little disappointed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not,” John says, steeling his voice, tucking every bit of uncertainty back out of sight. It’s not even a lie, he’s not jealous, he’s mortally terrified.  </p>
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